Bethers released the breath he had been holding before rudely awakening the gunner and his number two. Thunder boomed in the distance and all of them now lay with one eye closed to preserve night vision against the sudden flashes that preceded them.
Colin crawled around the perimeter checking the men and whispering words of encouragement. He too had found himself falling into a doze and recognising it for what it was he went off to do the rounds. Of his remaining twenty three men still able to fight he caught seven of them sleeping, and awoke each one by cradling an earlobe of the offender with an index finger, and then digging a thumbnail into the soft flesh. It brought instant awareness to the individual without causing them to call out in pain or alarm. Once back in the land of the living he whispered to each of these the same verdict on their lack of self-discipline.
“You just lost yer shaggin name, bonnie lad.” Then he moved onto the nearest NCO or senior Guardsmen to inform them of something quite similar, and ensure that they did their job in future.
Jim Popham found 1 Platoons Warriors in a long line behind varying depths of cover, where they could assist the Highlanders with their 30mm Rarden cannons if called upon. The 82nd Warriors moved into laager a tactical bound behind them and their turrets swung outwards to cover interlocking arcs of fire. Jim left the APC, or ‘Track’ in Americanese, to pass the word. Stay close to the vehicles; don’t go visiting the neighbours who talk even weirder than the Coldstreamer’s. Maintain radio silence, only smoke inside the vehicles, and don’t goof off. As soon as it was light enough they would be moving out to link up with 1 Platoon, so their time would be best employed by preparing their weapons.
The younger and more inexperienced wanted to know why they weren’t already moving out, and he took the time to explain the frightmare, which that course of action would quickly become. In a night action in a forest against a superior force of infantry, Command and Control would go out the window as men became disorientated and got separated, fire fights between friendly troops would be a certainty, and no amount of available artillery support could prevent them from getting bogged down and surrounded in those circumstances, needing they themselves to be extracted.
He was approaching the sixth vehicle with his orders when a figure left the huddle of paratroopers stretching their legs and gassing in whispers beside it, shoulders hunched against the rain. The figure ducked out of view back into the fighting vehicle and after giving the men his instructions he went to investigate.
Three men sat in the darkness inside and by the shielded light of his minimag Jim recognised each of the paratroopers, but the boots and camouflage trousers protruding from the gunners seat in the turret were of British pattern rather than US Army.
Addressing the nearest trooper he asked the question. “Who’s that?”
“Koplenski sir, new guy.”
“Brandt, you are a heartbeat away from becoming a permanent resident on my shit list.”
Brandt gave a resigned shrug.
“It’s Company Sergeant Major Tessler, sir.”
Jim raised his voice slightly. “CSM, be so good as to be waiting beside my track when I return from rounds… … … don’t make me hunt you down and shoot you like a dog, ok?”
“Sir!” a disembodied voice replied.
Serge and Mikhail were lying two hundred yards from the Guards perimeter when they were joined by a soldier who knelt beside them to pull back on his equipment from where it had lain.
“Zdarovy?”
The soldier lay prone beside Serge before reporting.
“They are where they were reported to be by the survivors of the company they broke, Colonel General. The perimeter is about twenty metres inside their block of trees.” He described in detail the locations of the shell scrapes and each gun position.
“Strength?”
“Maybe an under strength platoon, sir. They will not be a problem for us.”
Serge was not quite as optimistic, whoever these enemy troops were they had already defeated three times their own numbers, the amount generally recognised for the successful over-running of a defended position. It was clear that only a planned assault would succeed where the previous hasty attacks had failed, hence the reconnaissance by his most experienced scout.
He squinted as lightning painted the forest momentarily white, robbing it of all colour, and then he had to blink frantically before continuing.
“Those damned mines of theirs are a problem, did you locate any or have they expended them all?" The soldiers answer was lost amid the sound of thunder and he paused before repeating himself
“Sir, I found none along either their left or right flanks, I believe they have used them all there. Three remain covering the track and at the rear they still have two, however neither of those will now function as desired when they need them.”
Nodding in satisfaction Serge dismissed the man back to his section with a word of praise, before sending a runner back to the first of the new mortar lines. The orders he gave his Spetznaz commanders sent Mikhail and his men to the left flank of the enemy position, to incorporate the remnants of the paratroopers company and set up a point of fire. Serge would take the other company to the rear where he would lead the assault. Neither company commander was happy with that item but Serge would not be swayed. Should the attack fail then they would reform and provide covering fire for Mikhail’s company to attack from the left.
Had they not expended all their RPGs in the house-to-house fighting in Braunschweig they would have employed them with telling effect here, but there was no point in wishing for what no longer remained.
Whoever succeeded would fight through the NATO position and reorganise amongst the gorse beyond the logging track, where the remainder would join them before moving off to attack the reported field workshops the recce patrol had seen.
“What arrangements for the wounded sir?”
“If they can move unassisted and still fight, then they come with us… otherwise they will have to be left behind. No dawdling on the NATO position my friends, once they go off the air their artillery may give it serious attention.” Serge knew the dawn was approaching and with it NATO air and ground units. They were running out of time and he wanted to finish things here and get clear of this forest to where they could create as much havoc amongst the enemy as he could.
Each of his men had been carrying a mortar round in their packs since they had evacuated Braunschweig, and with relief they had filed past a series of mortarmen on tracks, firebreaks and in clearings on the way to the start line, handing the munitions over where they were stacked up by type, high explosive and smoke. Some of the rounds were captured NATO munitions; the 81mm rounds performed perfectly well out of the Russian 82mm tubes. It went without saying that NATO could not utilise captured Red Army munitions in the same way and this went for all calibres of weapon. For decades, since the raising of the Iron Curtain they had planned on being able to make use of their potential opponents stores whilst denying those same forces the use of their own, and all by the simple act of producing gun barrels just a smidge wider than their enemies.
With five alternate sites roughly 300m apart, beside their current one, they could hopefully stay ahead of the NATO artillery, but they would not have the luxury of bedding in the base plates by firing rounds, and therefore accuracy would suffer. With the counter battery threat there could be no adjusting fire, they would send over a single belt of rounds and then relocate at the run, carrying the barrels, bipods, base plates, aiming posts and sights. The on-site stock of rounds at each mortar line would be abandoned once they displaced, but if NATO artillery did not respond then that position, and those rounds, could be utilised again.